Little symphony
by dream0fmirrors
Summary: Slash. Songfic. Oneshot. John Cena muses on his feelings in his first and last ever poem.


Summary: Slash. Songfic. Oneshot. John Cena muses on his feelings in his first and last ever poem.

The wind ruffled softly from the wide-open window in the dim-lit hotel room, spreading the uneasy scent of whiskey and old wood in the husky summer air, welcoming the end of what could have been a wonderful, warm and sunny day…

For many people, it was. For one, it had all been just a very long hour. Lifting the now almost half-full Jonnie Walker bottle to his lips, he looked at the piece of paper that rested in his lap, dully.

Blank. Just like his mind right now. Completely blank and empty.

Emotions seemed to leave his body one sip of the fiery liquid at a time, but just a simple shifting of the wind or squeal of the unsteady floor would make him feel tense and aware, his senses would awake in a welcoming, hoping urge….

Why was this so hard? He took notice of how much time it had took him to actually sit down here in the first place. Clutching the pen in his fist, he moved it to the top of the sheet unsurely, then quickly and roughly rose it back up, in the mere second the two fabrics touched.

Taking a deep breath, John rubbed his eyes and looked the ceiling, then back down, his gaze no longer so empty. With a slightly quivering hand, he tried one more time-very unsteadily-and managed to scribble the shaky words:

**I'm sitting here in an empty room,  
I'm writing a poem now to you,  
It's time to think about what we had.  
And when the sun is going down,  
All my feelings come around, **

John paused to take another long, deep breath, then clutched on the pen more steadily.

**I'm so sorry, cause you're dead.**

He swallowed hard and avoided the feeling of moisture in his left eye.

**If I could tell you all the pain I feel  
And all the sorrow grows tonight.**

**Why did you leave me here alone?  
Why did you leave me on my own?  
Was it time we just had borrowed?  
Was it our destiny,  
Or just my final fantasy?  
And I'm left behind in sorrow, and pain...**

He reached for the bottle once more, before drinking down almost all that remained in it, then, briskly wiping his mouth, he tried not to think of all the times He had forced every bottle out of his hands, carefully placing hands on his shoulders and speaking in a comforting, soothing way…

John had to shake his head, before actually letting his body soothe to the imaginary touch his mind was forcing on him.

"He's dead." Cena told himself firmly, in an attempt to calm his nerves. Strangely, that sentence just made his mind tense up even more. Trying very hard not to make any unnecessary movements, he resumed to his writing.

**Smoke and gloom are in the air,  
And your shades are everywhere,  
Now I've learned the world called dying.**

A pair of eyes with a piercing blue color flashed before his mind, the same pair of eyes he saw only days ago, wide open, in the cold, unforgiving ground…

~* Those eyes that once held such warmth and kindness, that were home of that special twinkle no other being could ever possess, couldn't have belonged to Him…

Deprived of all emotion and feeling, staring blankly in something unseen to anyone breathing in this world, no longer looking at him, not even noticing the flowers He once loved or the light smoke of gently lit candles all around…

John just stood there, silent, grasping that cold hand, a black cap pulled all the way down to his eye level, in the last desperate effort to hide…not the tears, but the seemingly inescapable situation…

With his head bowed down, he prayed silently, to somehow miraculously bring light back in those eyes.

He couldn't have been gone. It was impossible…and yet, strangely, the only reasonable explanation as to why the proclaimed Superman was, for once in his lifetime, feeling completely alone.

When He was alive, John never felt alone….

A hand on his shoulder made his whole body shake; he hesitated even looking behind, knowing very well it was just Hunter.

"I'm sorry, John." Spoke the deep voice, which now sounded unusually squeaky and high-pinched "I understand how much he meant to you, believe me, I do…"

Cena didn't move. Hushed whispers and curious eyes filled the tense atmosphere and even though, for some reason, the people around actually thought he didn't acknowledge them, he could hear each and every word they said.

"Look at him, I bet he's not even crying…"

"It's all the same, he'll just find someone else to help him get a better push."

"Not like SuperCena needs it! The nerve of using such a kind-hearted man to make a name for himself."

"I bet he'll be milking Paul for money next…"

"Yeah, he shouldn't even be here. If it wasn't for him, maybe-"

"Don't listen to them, kid." Hunter's whisper out-leveled them all, the grip on his shoulder tightening "He knew how much you loved him, what you sacrificed everyday, He told me that…I know, you know, and He knows…what they think will always be irrelevant. You should feel sorry for them, because they're the ones who truly don't belong here…"

John looked up at Paul and the "Cerebral Assassin's" eyes widened a bit at the sight of the tears that went down the younger superstar's cheeks, who simply pulled his cap even lower and gave out a simple nod, before gently shifting aside and moving away, forward, onward….

"Don't do anything stupid!" Triple H managed to call out after him, before throwing a certain amount of people unpleasant looks. Cena just kept walking in the sun, until his silhouette merged with the shadows of the caressing oak-trees. *~

Memories kept flooding John's mind, as his eyes began to water…he roughly swung his hand around, in search of his new best friend Walker, but only managed to knock the bottle on the ground and put it and any remainders of his salvation to an end.

**I'll put a rope around my neck,  
And at last I'm looking back,  
To give up life is my defense.**

**~* **There he was now, on the top of an old wooden chair, one end of the rope tied around the chandelier, while the other complemented somewhat loosely his pale neck, as he grasped it, in an effort to bring himself more courage for a last jump….

Tears welled in his icy grey eyes when he realized he couldn't do it. He wanted to, he had to…did he truly have no courage? Was he really the gutless coward he always knew he was? He lied….He said he was brave…He said he was strong…He said he could do anything! Why couldn't he make just one step? Why was he afraid??

No…it wasn't fear…deep down inside, John knew it wasn't fear…not fear of death, fear of disappointing Him. What if, what if He was watching now? What if He felt that, at this moment, John was giving up everything He had worked so hard to give and teach?...

"Please!" John choked out in a fit of hysterical tears, that surprised even him "Let me do it, damn it! Don't You want me anymore??" giving out a small, suffocated hiccup, he continued "Help me…what do You want?"

Cena took a deep breath, placing his hand over his eyes, not daring to even look at the setting sun in front of him…soon, it would all be over, they'd be together again, He would take him in like before and shower him with care, they would, he would….

Just when he leaned forward, John felt a small tingle on his left cheek… something soft and gentle, something warm and, in a way, tempting…horror filled his soul, as the sensation seemed to move past his ear and disappear.

For minutes he stood there, frozen, until finally battling out the courage to open his swollen eyes, hope blinding him into believing that, maybe, for a second, he would see his Angel…

All he saw were the day's last rays of sun winking at him, trough the comfort of the white silk curtains. Bewildered, John scanned the room, in a desperate search of finding a hint, a trace, some sort of proof that what he felt was real.

There it was, dancing lonely at a dim corner of the room, before finally settling down on the floor, as if tired from a long and exhausting trip.

A feather. A single white feather.

Few more tears went down the young man's cheeks, before he silently turned his gaze at the now purple-red sky before him…*~

John's eyes grew dark and for a moment, as empty as before.

**Do you know another way?  
Please come back and tell me how to stay.**

**And...  
Why did you leave me here alone?  
Why did you leave me on my own?  
Was it time we just had borrowed?**

John shook his head, anger overwhelming him, his had drawing up the bitter feeling in his soul.

**  
Was it our destiny,  
Or just my final fantasy?  
And I'm left behind in sorrow, and pain...**

The wind, who had until now managed to calm, now made an effort to reach out to the wrestler, giving out something that resembled an insecure, saddened whisper.

The blonde felt tears in his eyes, but this time, made no effort to ignore or stop them. No effort to pretend any longer…for a second, he managed to level his head up and whisper:

"Take me with you…"

**These final cries I write for you,  
All my pain cries out for you.  
These final tears are shed for you,  
All my pain cries out for you.**

"Take me with you." He said again, more firmly

**And...  
Why did you leave me here alone?  
Why did you leave me on my own?  
Was it time we just had borrowed?**

Hundredths of images flashed in his mind….His eyes, His beautiful smile…that warm laughter, the welcoming embrace they'd share when one would enter their home…all those nights he'd spend watching Him sleep safely in his arms, that last, perfect kiss…

**  
Was it our destiny,  
Or just my final fantasy?  
And I'm left behind in sorrow, and pain...**

The nights they'd share, the nights that taught him what love truly was…

**Why did you leave me here alone?**

The tears were on the paper now, his hand was writing so fast his signature was barely readable…**  
**

**Why did you leave me on my own?**

The anger in his soul poured down the bittersweet poem, which now felt more like a yell of accusation, than an effort to mourn his love…

**Was it time we just had borrowed?**

Strangely, he didn't feel like He was angry at him for his words…even so, John couldn't help but feel a familiar soothing, a gesture he always felt when feeling down, but how…?

**  
Was it our destiny, **

The hands around his waist, the pair of soft lips on his neck…the scent of vanilla…For a second, he saw those two blue eyes in front of his own, smiling, shining….understanding…

**Or just my final fantasy?**

"Shawn…"

**And I'm left behind in sorrow...**

In the next morning, police were seen in that same hotel room, speaking to a certified medicine face, trying to put two and two together with a pretend interest:

"So, was it suicide?"

"No toxins were found in his body, no wounds anywhere either. He must've suffered a severe shock; some type of overwhelming emotion…his body just couldn't handle it."

Soon enough, it was all over the world.

John Cena was found dead in his hotel room, having suffered a severe brain insult. They never found out the cause of it, all they found was something that resembled a love-letter in his lap, but the media were still to figure out who it was for.

Still, one fact remained all over the world.

When they found Cena dead, he was smiling

**A/N: Song is by Visions of Atlantis and is called "The Poem". I was inspired to write this after reading the latest chapter of "Heart to Hart" (don't ask how that happened…it just got me in the angst mood) and the second I heard this song, the fanfic was in my head. Feel free to comment :) and thanks for reading.**


End file.
